


Liar

by MissDomho



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Angry Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 01:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12830427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDomho/pseuds/MissDomho
Summary: 'All he really wants is for Mike to pull him into his arms, to hold him close to his body and show the same attachment and kindness he's only capable of while he's buried inside of him, when there are no thoughts of moral integrity, no religious indoctrination, no sins of what they were doing together, no other band members, no wives, no fans, no nothing. When the world is reduced to the feel of them pressed together and everything falling perfectly into place.' Bennoda-Slash-PWP-Standalone. [complete]





	Liar

AN Hey everyone! So I was doing some spring cleaning the other day and found my old USB! Which had some of my old, half written stories on it from like 6 years ago haha! I am so terrible! At keeping track of things lol. <3

 

Warning Nothing- but angry and emotional Bennoda sex, this would have been about the time I broke up with my ex and I was angry at him that it inspired to write this hahah! You all have been warned! And no one was hurt in the making!<3

 

\----

The murmur of the engine ceases, and there is silence in the darkness of the night. Chester looks at the huge white monstrosity of a house and wonders what the fuck is wrong with him? That he managed to find his way here again, what's wrong with him? That he thinks he maybe could find his way here blindfolded by now.

 

It's been two months since the last time. Two months since the Vocalist let anxiety and frustration. Unexplainable loneliness get the better of him, because it's either this or a bottle of whiskey- but if he was honest with himself, he doesn't want the bottle of whiskey as much as he wants this.

 

He knows he should leave. He should turn his key in the ignition of his car and just leave. He shouldn't even acknowledge the light he can see on in one of the widows of the second floor of the large house that stood before his wake. It was one of the bedroom windows.

 

Instead, the tattooed man takes the key from the ignition and climbs out of his car on his legs that are shaky from all the driving he had been doing, feeling like a moth drawn to the light. At least moths have no idea they're courting death before they get burnt to a crisp from the light.

 

He knew it was late, nearly two am in the morning, so the light is probably lit because someone forgot to turn it off, not because there's still someone awake in the large manor. He makes it up the walkway and all the way to the front porch before losing his ability to move forward.

 

"Fucking idiot"

 

He berates himself, turning around now realising that this was now a huge mistake as he makes his way back to his car as fast as he can, the gravel crunching beneath his feet.

 

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

 

A very familiar, pissed off voice calls from the distance behind him.

 

Chester palms his keys, feeling the body-warmed metal bite into his cold hand as the Vocalist squeezes them tight and turns around. There's a shadow of a figure stalking down the porch steps now, the front door swinging shut behind it once the lead singer realises who it was standing there before him. Chester curses Mike's insomnia.

 

The emcee's body is all tension, his muscles were taut, his biceps flexed, his darker skin glistening. Which Chester can see because of that stupid, obscene tight shirt he's wearing. The moonlight delineates his full cheekbones and clenched jaw- but makes his eyes seem hollow and void from the cold night.

 

Chester swallows hard, looking for words as he just stares. He always tries to prepare a speech, keep at least a few smart remarks at hand so that he can throw them at the other man's face as soon as he sees it- but tonight he has absolutely nothing in him. All he can do is stare at the hollows he knows are Mike's eyes and wonder how he always manages to put himself in this situation.

 

The emcee's stance isn't any less severe now than it was the last time they saw each other, looking like a modern marble idol right before Chester's eyes, clad in denim and cotton and shrouded in the darkness of the night.

 

"What-"

 

The emcee began through gritted teeth, coming to a stop a few feet away from Chester's car

 

"-Are you doing here?"

 

Chester feels a sudden boil of red hot anger rising up in his suddenly dry throat like bile. He hates Mike for asking him that question, hates him even more for expecting an answer, hates him so much he can't even breathe now.

 

"Nothing. I couldn't sle-I don't know why I am here"

 

He growls, the night air suddenly making his lungs feel cold as it hurt to breathe. The shadow that Mike's head cocks to the side in that distinctly bird-like fashion he always has, so delicate, so graceful and vaguely threatening at the same time.

 

"I don't fucking believe you"

 

Mike grouts, and Chester pictures his band mate narrowing his eyes, a condescending lilt to his voice. The metal of the keys bites into Chester's skin.

 

"Fuck you" was all Chester could come up with. Great comeback, Chester!

 

"See, if you'd come all this was here for nothing-"

 

The taller man says, stalking forward with casual ease to peer into the front window of Chester's car

 

"-You would have brought your wife with you-"

 

"Don't talk about her!" Chester snarls. Wanting to forget for a moment that he was married and yet here he was standing in front of Mike, who was also married to Anna. Mike ignores him.

 

"-But you didn't" He finishes, lips curling into a knowing smirk that Chester is close enough to make out now "You're a liar"

 

"I don't have to listen to this..."

 

Chester says after short a moment, sucking in his bottom lip before shaking his head, clearing the image of Mike's half lit face from his mind.

 

"This was a bad idea. I don't know why I thought you would ever be able to have an actual conversation with me."

 

The lead singer then turns on his heels then, his keys jingling as he singles out the right one. His car's door creeks in protest as he yanks it open a little too viciously for his own good- but he slams it closed behind him and jams the key into the ignition.

 

The car's engine turned over, coaxing to life at the same time as Mike rattles sharply at his window. Chester jumps and then his mouth pinches up and he flips the emcee off. Mike looks furious as the thin glass won't stop him from letting Chester know exactly how much is too much.

 

"So I guess in addition to being a liar, Chester"

 

He spits out his name like it's an insult, like it's the most disgusting, dirty thing he can think of.

 

"-You're also a fucking coward. Good to know."

 

And it burns Chester up. He can't explain it, how thoroughly those hurtful words get to him. How much he hates that Mike would even say them, would even imply that he believes them or has the right to say them. Chester is not a coward. He has never been a coward.

 

The singer not even aware of making the conscious and the right choice, suddenly he throws his weight out of the car, and shoves Mike hard when he finally stalks up to the emcee. The smaller man shoves him with all his might and he knows that even though he and Mike are pretty much the same built, only slightly taller then the singer- but he definitely catches Mike in surprise as he stumbles back out of what must be pure shock.

 

Chester follows right along, stepping in front of his car, the headlights hitting his back and casting hard shadows across Mike's already hard face. His large eyes are wild and bright with warning and danger, sunken with sleeplessness and that aggressive, cackling energy that always simmers just under the surface of the emcee- but Chester can't think over his own anger, he just - just-

 

He just wants this horrible, burning feeling to go away. This feeling where his own anger is like an animal gnawing slowly at his bones, leaving him feeling brittle and weak.

 

Mike's eyes narrow and he clenches his fists, almost like he's trying to hold himself back and it just makes the singer want to lash out because he hates that, and he realises with a twinge of something animalistic that he wants Mike to hit him, wants to taste his own blood between his own lips, because that means that everything he thinks about Mike is true and there's no reason for him to be standing here at Mike's place in the first place. No reason for him to keep coming back to this.

 

"I'm not a coward, you motherfucker! I'm not the one that always leaves. I'm not the fucking coward between the two of us, Mike!"

 

Chester hits Mike again, pushes him, fists coming down on his broad chest with enough strength to make him stumble. The singer doesn't care how stupid he looks, how juvenile he was feeling and against all of his principles. Anger bubbles inside him like lava from the core of a volcano, and he needs to do something as he was afraid he might just explode.

 

The emcee doesn't even reply. He makes a noise more animalistic than a human being and maybe it's the self imposed isolation he immerses himself in whenever he's not on tour with the band, or maybe it's the insomnia that's eating at the edges of his frayed mind like a dirty, street rat- but when he does move he's like a shadow, precise, implacable, violent and detached, like he's slowly losing even the will to scream insults and throw punches like he means it.

 

Chester lets out a loud gasp as his back hits the side of his car and the taller man's thigh is between his legs and Chester doesn't have room to breathe much less keep himself from rocking down on Mike's leg, Mike's breath on his neck making him shudder and gasp aloud, his breath coming out in puffs of white clouds from the bitter cold night.

 

He wants to fight it, wants to fight himself more than Mike. Dread surges through the singer at the realisation that the tightness in his throat is the longing to give in, to give up, to take whatever Mike is prepared to give and damn the consequences. To trade every last shred of self-respect he has left in his body, for something that is not even the illusion of closeness, something intensely painful all by itself.

 

\- But most of all, Chester hates how weak he is because no matter how little Mike will give him, he'll still want this. He still wants Mike.

 

"You can't just -" He begins, nails digging into the skin of Mike's arms, hard enough to draw blood even though it's a hollow victory for the smaller singer to see the emcee gasp from the pain of it all. "I'm not here for this, asshole!"

 

The emcee's mouth is burning, slick suction that will probably leave a bruise. His well kept beard drags against Chester's skin, burning it, and the singer should be annoyed, he shouldn't be getting hard over it. Because he's not - he doesn't belong to Mike. He's not Mike's to mark. He shoves against him as Chester may be his own kind of unstoppable force- but Mike is definitely an immovable fucking object.

 

"Liar"

 

Mike accuses him now for the second time of the night. There is no other acknowledgement, just his hands hard on Chester's rounded hips, his teeth sharp against the singer's neck as he bends low to cage him against the car as Chester has never been more pissed off and turned on at the same time in his lifetime. He pulls away until his lips finds Chester's, angry moans were exchanged between the two of them as their tongues duelled fiercely.

 

The tattooed man breath stutters out of his cold lungs, tripping over itself to leave him feeling dizzy and gasping for air once he broke away from Mike's lips. His cock throbs in his tight denim and he rides Mike's leg shamelessly, needing to relieve the awful wave of lust Mike's touch never fails to elicit from him, the shocks of tingling electricity that run all over his body just at the sound of his voice. He's drowning in it. He drowning in too deep for his lust for the sexy emcee as he couldn't find his way back up.

 

He twists his wrists against Mike's grip but eagerly meets his mouth when Mike finally kisses him again, voracious and angry and finally. Chester wished he could tell himself this isn't what he wanted from the moment he let himself grab his own car keys earlier from tonight, that this isn't what he's wanted ever since the last time- but he can't even tell the emcee that because when Mike releases one of his wrists and slides his fingers into Chester's pocket, they both know he's going to find the little packet of lube Chester put there. Mike deviously smirks at the smaller man, smug and full of himself while Chester's whole face feels entirely too hot.

 

"You want to tell me again how you're not mine, Baby?"

 

The Vocalist eye doesn't twitch- but it's a near thing now.

 

"Just because I like getting fucked doesn't mean I like you one bit! Maybe I'll go, see if your Braddles wants to do the honors instead."

 

Chester's voice feigning jealousy now over the lead guitarist who was also known for being Mike's best friend. Since as of late, they had been spending a lot of time together since they all left from the tour. He wanted to bite. Wanted to bite hard and he knew at the mention of Brad's name, he could see something sinister in the emcee's eyes once Chester felt Mike pull his body away from the car for only a second before the singer felt his small body being slammed back into it.

 

It was a horrible bluff and it's not fooling either of them, even if it does leave Chester's lips with too much resentment and jealousy for his liking- but it still results in Mike's eyes flashing in anger still and his uncut nails digging hard against Chester's skin, scraping him as Mike abruptly pulls back and yanks him around. He shoves him down hard over the front of his car, Chester's shirt bunching up and one of Mike's hands vice-like on the back of his neck, holding him in his place.

 

The emcee's body bores down over him, solid and smouldering as Chester is trapped and overly warm. He bites down on his own lip, viciously, in his attempt to keep his moan from Mike- but he can sense Mike's lips curl into a smirk behind him.

 

"That's just pathetic"

 

Says the emcee, lips brushing Chester's ear.

 

"Is that what you are, Bennington? Just a needy mess you are, desperate enough to let my best friend have a go? Or is that the appeal? Brad stuck it to me and now he could-"

 

"Shut up!"

 

Snarls the Vocalist, a spike of red hot jealousy lacing his words. He shoves back against Mike with all his might, bucking under his weight.

 

“You think talking about that is gonna hurt me, Mike? You think anything you say is gonna matter to me? I don't give a shit if you and Delson have fucked..."

 

Mike's laugh is harsh, cruel and bitter all at the same time, and he rocks his hips against Chester's ass, leaning in closer as his cold lips came into contact with Chester's nape, now sucking the cold skin between his lips leaving a bruising mark behind Chester's ear like he has any right to do so.

 

"I think everything I say matters to you. Leave Delson out of this...It has nothing to do with him..."

 

The truth and Mike sticking up for his best friend feels like a knife between his ribs, twisting, scraping and stealing his breath and making him lash out. He jams his elbow into Mike's ribs. Which caused the emcee to gasp before he regains his composure a second later as he slams himself back against Chester.

 

“Well, let me enlighten you then, you ignorant piece of shit,” Chester snarls, bitterness dripping from his haggard voice. “I only care about if you're gonna stand there drooling on me all night, or are you actually gonna do something about this and fuck me?”

 

Chester smirks at his comment knowing all too well that his words had taken a beating in Mike's mind. He could hear the emcee growl loudly between gritted teeth as the Vocalist feels Mike's nails scrape against his skin as he starts yanking at his tight jeans, tearing them open and shoving them down past Chester's hips.

 

“You want this"

 

Mike grouts. There’s a catch in his voice, an edge to his tone that sours Chester's stomach further than anger has already done. He doesn’t want Mike to care enough to check if Chester is on board with this, doesn't want him to be any better then the asshole Chester knows he is. He just wants him to take, so that they can finally be done with this once and for all.

 

“I want your fingers in my ass, followed by your cock. Can you manage that? Or do you need me to spell it out for you?” Chester snarls, letting his bitterness and loathing sharpen every word and syllable.

 

He hears the small packet of lube being ripped open behind him, and then it happened so fast, like a blur passing by Chester's eyes he felt his body cave further into his car realising where they were- but the lust had clouded over him once again the moment he felt Mike's long, slender fingers probing his virginal entrance. Pressing his digits in further, feeling the skin break beneath his hard touch as two were sliding in now, stretching his tight skin. Chester tried not to sigh in pure relief. He shivers, mouth open and smearing his spit against the hood of his car.

 

The emcee's fingers pry him open, and Chester hates and loves how good it makes him feel, he loves Mike's lack of patience, how he wants to do this so much he's fast with it, it makes Chester cock throb painfully and his head swim in and out of consciousness as he could barely catch a breath.

 

God, he never meant for it to be this way at all. He’s not a fucking idiot, the singer knows this isn’t good or healthy or right, and he knows that Mike realises this as well. They should just leave each other alone. They should walk away now and pretend none of this ever happened between them in the first place, that they're just two people who used to be best friends, until the drunken night whilst on tour changed their hazy relationship for good. Chester is too self-loathing for that night to have happened, too resentful about what he can't have, and Mike is too brutally honest to walk away from what he wants, or lie to himself about it, even when it makes him feel dirty and disgusting.

 

So instead, it’s moments like this. It’s angry words and hard touches. It’s Chester seeing stars with his eyes crammed shut and blood blooming across his tongue from biting down too hard to try to keep his silly words inside.

 

“Is this what you wanted then, Ches?” Mike asks against the back of Chester's neck. He sounds wrecked. He sounds angry and hurt, and it makes Chester hate him more and at the same time he can't bring himself to hate Mike, not even a little bit. “You happy pretending this is enough for you?”

 

Chester ignores his question. He can’t lie right now, he doesn’t have it in him. He never can when the emcee is doing this to him, never has mastered the ability to shut off his vulnerability, his needs and desires, despite all of the horrible insults and mocking taunts Mike is always so fucking careful.

 

"I told you what I wanted! I also told you I could get it somewhere else. So either fuck me or get the fuck off me, Mike."

 

Chester isn't sure how he gets the words out, but he knows they hit home because Mike's fingers slide out only to be replaced by the blunt pressure of his thick cock pushing in. The folded skin breaking and spreading as the sensation steals his breath away, his blunt nails scraping against the hood of the car. The sound of his hot skin sliding against the shiny car sounding so delicious for each of them. The emcee's breath so warm against his ear, voice rough when he speaks.

 

"Come on then, let me hear that smart mouth of yours, baby."

 

"Don't call me that." Chester hates it, hates the way it makes him flush, the way it makes his cock ache for him, the way it feels like an insult and an endearment all at once to Chester. The emcee nips at his ear, tracing his gauge with his tongue. "Whatever you say, Chester"

 

The Vocalist lets out an unsteady breath, takes another because he means to tell Mike to shut the fuck up- but Mike's hips slam forward, pushing all of his pulsating length into the smaller singer. Chester squeaks and tries to cover it up with a groan- but he very well knows Mike heard it.

 

The emcee's lips curl, brushing against the back of Chester's neck. "What, you got nothing to add? Am I not doing a good enough job for you? Maybe it's not too late to call Brad? Believe me when I tell you this he's fucking amazing"

 

"Fuck, I hate you Mike!" says Chester, gasping for breath. His head swims, every thrust Mike gives him feels like another taunt, another reminder that this is all there is, and he can never have the whole thing. There's a pause, a moment filled with nothing but the slick sound of Mike's bare skin slapping against Chester's hot skin, of rough breathing and smothered moans, and then Mike whispers, like a condemnation.

 

"Liar."

 

Chester groans at Mike's comment, and he fumbles for one of Mike's hands, dragging it from his hip to his own cock.

 

"I don't care what you think at all. I care whether or not I get to come any time soon."

 

The emcee follows Chester's direction, his long fingers wrapping around Chester's throbbing sex as for a moment, Chester thinks he's actually going to make this easy for once. Call it temporary insanity, Chester doesn't know why he would ever let himself dare hope.

 

Mike gives him a few strokes, with that little flick of his wrist at the end that always has him moaning for it, and then his grip tightens abruptly at the base of Chester's dick. "I'm not ready for you to come quite yet."

 

"Asshole"

 

Chester spits back, gasping- but he pushes back into Mike's thrusts, the pleasure from it all making the smaller man dizzy.

 

"I don't think I want you to come just yet until you admit you do want me."

 

It's a cruel thing to tease Chester with, even for Mike. This finally proves it, right? Mike cruel and vicious, and that is all he is. Chester knows he should protest, he should shove Mike off him, should make him angrier so that this can be done a lot quicker. They could be done with this sick game they're playing- but the singer doesn't want this to be over yet, can't even lie to himself about it. The smaller man doesn't want this to be one more time when he drives home before the sweat has even cooled on his skin.

 

Mike runs his tongue along the back of Chester's neck, lips latching on and bringing the skin between his lips, leaving another mark that will bruise and last for days knowing it would make Talinda flip out if she sees it.

 

"Say yes"

 

Mike whispers, and if Chester didn't know better, he would almost think Mike sounds as desperate as Chester feels.

 

"Yes"

 

Chester says, earning a shudder and a moan and a smouldering kiss to the side of his neck, the emcee's arm tightening around him like he never wants to let go. He slams his eyes closed and lets himself pretend for a little while that it is true, that Mike misses him, wants him for more then just an angry fuck once every few months. He lets himself imagine that Mike loves him, in that dark miasma of scrambled self-loathing, anger and manic, possesive desire that is his mind.

 

Mike kisses his jaw then, a soft thank you that Chester doesn't want. He shivers, turning his face away, and bites down on his own lip when Mike rocks into him, slow and inexorable like the tide, the way he knows will make Chester fall apart for him. The Vocalist knows how this goes, knows to bear down, to take deep breaths. He likes this, hates how much he loves it, he likes the way it forces him to concentrate, to relax when his instinct is the opposite.

 

It narrows his focus, slows down his always frantic thought process, his entire world to just Mike, just the feel of Mike's hand sneaking under his tight shirt to caress his hot skin, just the feel of Mike's cock pushing inside of him, stretching him, destroying every limit Chester thought he had.

 

The emcee gives him one hard thrust that's unexpected, shattering that last ounce of control Chester was holding on to keep at least a little bit of himself tonight, and who the fuck is he kidding?

 

The taller man's arm tightens around him and he kisses the back of the tattooed man's neck softly, moaning low in the back of his throat like he doesn't even care what Chester thinks of him. And he doesn't. Why would he? Here he is, buried inside Chester's warm body, wrapped all around him at the same time, taking him, owning him. Marking him as his own. Chester's breath stutters, catches as he tries to hold back a whine

 

"Fuck, fuck. Oh god."

 

The lead singer feels dizzy, every ragged breath he sucks in burns his throat, and the air is so cold in his lungs.

 

"Shh, shh," Whimpers Mike, lips brushing the back of Chester's neck.

 

"That's it. God, you're so beautiful Chester."

 

Chester whimpers softly at the taller man's comment, the feeling of those words elicit coupled with the drag of Mike's cock deep inside him and the feel of him against his back and the smell of Mike surrounding his senses was almost unbearable in intensity. He wants to kick himself for saying yes to this.

 

Why did he do this to himself? He forgot or maybe just willfully ignored the part where doing this with Mike makes him feel defenseless, unguarded, wide open for Mike to take everything he wants from him and he knows Mike is greedy, so greedy. He will take everything and give nothing back and Chester, he'll give it to him. He's doing it right now, moaning for it like a whore. A bitch on heat.

 

God, he's fucking pathetic.

 

He doesn't even realise Mike's hand had left his throbbing cock until it returns, and Mike gives him a gentle squeeze.

 

"There you go. Let me take care of you, baby."

 

"I told you-I-"

 

Chester breaks off, he can't think. He can't be mad right now when it's exactly what he needed to hear and Mike knows it. Instead he swallows back a sob and shifts into Mike's touch.

 

"You feel so good, Chester. Always perfect"

 

The emcee mutters into his ear. His breath so warm against him. Chester fingers scrabble at the hood of the car, needing something to ground him. He stretches his body out as he reaches until his fingers were able able curl into the groove between the hood and the windshield.

 

Mike's blankets him, his body heavy and warm against Chester. Mike's fingers tighten around his cock, jacking him in a steady rhythm that matches the slow rock of his own hips. Mike kisses him again, kisses his neck and his jaw, kisses his cheek. It's all too much. It's everything he never wanted to admit he craves from Mike. Not even his own wife can give him the satisfaction and desire that he was feeling now.

 

Chester's cock is getting impossibly harder, throbbing between his trembling legs and Mike is coaxing him towards an orgasm with his fingers and his words.

 

"That's what you wanted, that's it. You could never get this from anyone else, not even Talinda...Could you?"

 

"Please..."

 

The word is pushed out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Mike makes a sound that's not so much satisfied as it is elated.

 

"It's okay, I got you."

 

Chester whimpers, he can't hold it back anymore. His fingers have gone numb now from holding onto the hood so hard, and he's right on the edge, he is so close.

 

"God! You're ass feels amazing, fuck!" Mike pants raggedly. Thrusting more persistently into his smaller singer.

 

His thumb brushes over the tip of Chester's cock and then again, and he thrusts that much deeper, his mouth creating another mark into Chester's sweaty neck. It all comes together in a hot rush, spilling over Mike's fist. He clenches around Mike's cock again and again, his cock thick and hot inside of him. The emcee's jerks and with a moan wrapped around Chester's name, he's coming, too.

 

Chester's legs go weak beneath his weight, the only thing keeping him up is his grip on the car and the wall of Mike's body behind him. The emcee is petting him all over, rubbing his sides and murmuring softly against his skin. Chester turns into the touch and sighs at the words. He doesn't know what Mike's saying. It doesn't matter.

 

Eventually, just like always, Mike smothers a sigh against Chester's ashened skin and peels his arm from around Chester's torso, slow like it takes conscious effort, he slips out of Chester. The older singer can't turn around when Mike pulls back, can't stand the thought of looking at Mike right about now. His hands were shaking now when he reaches to pull his pants back up quickly, the sounds of his belt clinking.

 

All he really wants is for Mike to pull him into his arms, to hold him close to his body and show the same attachment and kindness he's only capable of while he's buried inside of him, when there are no thoughts of moral integrity, no religious indoctrination, no sins of what they were doing together, no other band members, no wives, no fans, no nothing. When the world is reduced to the feel of them pressed together and everything falling perfectly into place.

 

"You should go" Mike says thickly, the rasp carrying through the darkness of the night. With the nature of everything that has happened between them before him. Because he doesn't know how to feel. It doesn't matter that sometimes it feels like he honestly wants to, needs to, with that burning passion in his dark eyes.

 

Crushing those thoughts under the weight of all the hurt he has piled up inside, Chester nods stiffly, feeling like he's going on autopilot. He doesn't look back at Mike until he's inside his car again, putting the gears into reverse.

 

Mike is watching him go, that frown on his face that's now a permanent feature looking harsh, tired and so far away from the cocky persona of him Chester's paints in his head to make himself feel better that he has to look away, before he does something stupid. Chester grips the steering wheel and promises himself this would be the last time.

 

As he backs away from the house to start the shameful drive back to his own home, the phantom feeling of Mike's warm breath against his ear makes him shudder.

 

Liar

 

\---  
END

 

AN Hope it's okay, can't help myself from writing slash...I try to tone it down- but I can't help myself lol. So feed back is muchly appreciated and adored <3 Thank you for reading...xxxx


End file.
